


Personal Space

by heartstarmagick



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: AU because what are timelines, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Bisexual Julia Wicker, Bisexual Margo Hanson, Closet Sex, Discussion of Cunnilingus, Discussion of Eliot Fucking A Clone of Himself, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Frottage, Heavily Implied Julia/Margo, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexy Story Swap Time, ft. Eliot's Huge Cock, omg there's a tag for it i'm losing it, past qualice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstarmagick/pseuds/heartstarmagick
Summary: The Gang plays Never Have I Ever and things get a little intense.--"They both look more than halfway to debauched; swollen lips and messy hair, lust-glazed eyes and half undone clothes. And they’re both pretty sure they’ve never seen anything sexier in their short lives.Eliot’s the first to speak, letting his hips rock gently against Quentin’s, “If we keep this up, I’m going to ruin my trousers.”“Not your expensive silk underwear?” Quentin kind of can’t believe that Eliot made the word trousers sound so sexy but…here they were.An amused smirk crosses Eliot’s features, as if Quentin gave exactly the answer he was looking for."





	Personal Space

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly canon divergent--it's after the threesome but it feels like life before Fillorian Royalty stuff happens??? (Or maybe it's......way after?? Either way.) 
> 
> I'm reading the first book and I got really inspired by the line "All the Physical Kids were falling in love with each other"--originally, Julia was going to be Alice but I felt like I couldn't get a good hold on her voice. 
> 
> Happy reading!

They’re playing Never Have I Ever and Eliot’s losing miserably (predictably, which is why he agreed to it in the first place.) Margo has his liver’s back when she throws out _never have I ever lost my virginity in the back of a mini van._

“That doesn’t even _count_,” comes Quentin’s indignant voice—obviously the target of that particular attack. “I just fingered her!”

“Did you get your dick touched for the first time?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Did you cum?”

“Yeah! But—”

“It _counts_, drink the damn Rubinoff, Coldwater.”

Quentin rolls his eyes and takes the shot, grimacing.

Due to Margo and Eliot’s penchant for all things pleasurable, they’d come up with an additional rule to the game that if only one player did the thing in question, said player has to take a shot of bright blue Rubinoff—a drink all of them found revolting--instead of their beverage of choice.

Eliot had been drinking a lot of Rubinoff. It's his turn though, “Never have I ever fucked a girl in the bath.”

“Oh come _on_,” Quentin again.

“Relax,” Both Margo and Julia chime in, each noticeably down another finger. Eliot can’t help an airy giggle.

They’re sitting on the floor in a circle between the couch and chairs, legs on laps and half-eaten platters of canapes and wine bottles—some open, some sealed—among the quad. Everyone else is out for the night.

“Never have I ever fucked Eliot,” Julia laughs, gunning for either Margo or Eliot himself, and is surprised when the full remaining trio loses a finger and drinks. “Wait, _really_?”

“It wasn’t out of love. Or…at least, not love like that,” Margo snorts, shaking her head before stroking Eliot’s cheek.

Eliot smiles and preens at the attention, “Sometimes there aren’t any guys at the party worth your time so you go home with your best friend, bang it out, and then never talk about it again—thanks, Julia.”

“Fair enough but El, you can’t bang _yourself_.”

“I can,” Eliot says, taking a dramatic sip of his drink, “and I _did_.”

“Dildoes don’t count.”

“Oh, he wasn’t a dildo,” Eliot winks and Quentin pointedly ignores the fact that it goes right to his previously-soft cock.

Things between Eliot and Quentin ring complicated. They hooked up that one night, the night he told Julia about, but nothing came of it and while Quentin still has a little bit of a crush on him, he’s not about to ruffle the way things are between them. That crush had been completely dormant up until tonight, but Quentin does his best to bury it again.

“—totally happened! Look, I taped it if you don’t believe me because it took a _lot_ of energy to conjure a clone but trust it was nothing short of amazing. My _mouth_, it was so good. I swore next time I’d make two so they could both ravish me.”

Quentin’s pants are getting uncomfortably tight.

“I don’t think the world is ready for three Eliots, sweetie,” Margo says, humming as a silence settles over the group, “Your turn, Q.”

“Never have I ever…” he trails off, thinking a moment before snorting, “had sex while I was on Molly.”

“Really?” Eliot’s evidently the only one, shrugging and taking his shot. “Missing out.”

“Never have I ever fucked my clone,” Margo cackles and Eliot takes his shot straight out of the bottle.

“Never have I ever fucked Alice,” Eliot shoots back, completely forgetting Quentin had in fact _also_ done that until Eliot hears:

“You and _Alice_ hooked up?!”

Margo shrugs, finishing the canape she put in her mouth before speaking, “It was kind of an accident. Well—” she snorts, shaking her head, “—no, not an accident at all. She was in my room one night for some reason, super upset about…something.” Quentin. “We made out and that just—you know, progressed like it always does when someone’s hand is on your thigh going up your skirt and into your thankfully _cute_ underwear. She slept over and my sheets were ruined.”

Quentin’s brow furrows, “Wait—”

“If you are not making a _mess_ when you’re eating pussy, you’re not doing it right.”

“Amen to that,” Julia snorts.

After several more rounds the game devolves into swapping stories, particularly involving sexual encounters in illicit places, mainly because they’re shitfaced and sick of drinking Rubinoff. Eliot swishes his wine before taking a hearty sip, “My first blowjob was completely platonic but it made me believe in God for like three days. I literally almost went to church with my parents.”

“I think I had a similar experience the first time anyone went down on me,” Julia says. “When and where?”

“My bedroom at my parents’ house. I can’t remember, I know I was in high school getting close to the end.” Another sip of wine. “I had this friend, one of my only friends. He was straight, I think he felt bad that there weren’t any gay guys in Hellscape, Indiana, population 200. _Maybe_ more? Anyway, he made a habit of stealing a few Mike’s Hards from his older brothers and would stay the night every so often and at first it was—you know, the usual guy sleepover stuff, but after a while we started fooling around over our clothes and kissing each other on the neck, which turned into inside-of-pants hand jobs because you know—it’s definitely not gay if your pants are still on, I guess?

“Anyway, one night we’re in bed a little bit drunker than usual and he asks me if I’ve ever had a blowjob and of course I hadn’t. He’s a good friend so he offers and I get my pants off and then he starts going to _town_ on me and I was never the same again. He was really good at sucking dick for someone who only dated cis girls, swallowed everything I gave him, too.”

“My first blowjob was a sleepover blowjob too,” Julia laughs, clinking her glass against Eliot’s in _cheers_. Eliot’s the only one who notices Quentin _blushing_. Julia continues, “At this rich girl’s house, who had us all go skinny dipping in her pool earlier that night. She wouldn’t stop staring at me and after we went in, we stayed up together long after everyone else fell asleep. So we just—she took me into one of the guest bedrooms and she laid me on the bed and she spelled the alphabet with her tongue. And then I did, we did it until the sun came up.”

“Go Julia,” Margo smirks, _cheers_-ing her glass as well before turning her attention to Quentin, “It’s your turn.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve been graciously bearing our souls to you, no spectators allowed.”

Quentin rolls his eyes, “I already _knew_ Julia’s story. Besides, I don’t—I don’t _do_ things, people don’t—you know, do things with me, except you two,” he nodded to Eliot, “and we all already know that story.”

“You’re kidding,” Eliot gasps, moving to affectionately pet Quentin’s hair, “no illicit bedtime blowjobs under the blankets? Or frotting with a stranger in a bar you’re too young to be in?”

These things are not helping Quentin’s, at this point, comically _massive_ boner.

“I’m not really—I didn’t—I mean…” Quentin shrugged, “they’re not _exciting_ stories like that and I—I don’t really want to talk about Alice anyway so…”

Eliot blinks in consideration. Julia clears her throat and announces she’s stepping out for a smoke, which confuses the remaining trio given that they smoke in the house all the time. Margo joins her, leaving Eliot and Quentin to themselves.

Quentin’s beating himself up for letting the party get a weird vibe and Eliot either notices or pointedly does not, slinking behind Quentin and wrapping an arm around his waist. His other hand is in Quentin’s hair, giving his scalp a gentle scritch that draws an embarrassingly breathy noise from a very turned on Q. “Can I ask you something?” Eliot’s voice is soft and hot in his ear, slender fingers slowly dancing towards his neck, on which they linger and brush over his pulse.

“You just did,” Quentin’s breath hitches as Eliot’s other, firm hand sneaks over his hip.

Eliot, of course, ignores him, “Am I the only guy you’ve ever fucked?”

“Think technically you were doing the fucking—”

“You know what I mean.”

It’s agonizing because Quentin doesn’t want to say it, but Eliot’s going to make him. “Yeah.”

Eliot’s hands still, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew?” Quentin’s frustration only grows, despite the touches being teasing in the first place. “I mean, I…I don’t remember much of that night but I know you were fingering me for a _long_ time.”

“I guess I don’t remember much of that night either,” Eliot breathes. “But I was thinking, if you—wanted a story. You’re here and I’m here…Only if you want, no pressure.”

“_Fuck_, I do,” Quentin blushes, moaning softly as Eliot’s hands resume their respective journeys over clothes and soft skin. It’s then that Quentin feels Eliot’s equally-hard bulge pressing into his back. “Where?”

He hears a soft hum as Eliot considers, “I could take you right here,” he offers, “No, I got it, the coat closet. It’s the _best_ place for a quick fuck. Just filthy and illicit enough for a good story.”

Quentin hesitates, “I don’t want the others to be—mad or whatever.”

“They won’t be,” Eliot says softly, and Quentin’s actually moaning as a hand palms over the front of his jeans. “In fact, I bet they’re doing the same thing, right now. Margo’s had a crush on Julia since she got here.”

“Really?” Quentin’s a little bit breathless thinking about it, or maybe that’s just because Eliot’s very good with his hands. His hips begin rocking into Eliot’s expert touch, which only makes Eliot (agonizingly) stop.

“Do you want it, Q? Because I can stop if you don’t.”

“I told you, I _do_.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Please just cut the shit and fuck me in the coat closet.”

That earns a smirk from Eliot, who accepts that and helps Quentin up off the floor. They’re both reasonably intoxicated so getting to the closet comes with several stumbles and giggles. When they actually get in the closet and close the door behind them, they find that it’s pitch-black (probably because, it’s a closet and they didn’t turn the light on.) “Shit,” Eliot groans, reaching around for the switch. Quentin has him pinned to the wall though, making his search a little more difficult.

“We could keep the lights off,” Quentin suggests as he begins kissing Eliot’s neck. It isn’t until Quentin’s hips start rutting against his that Eliot realizes—

“Are you…standing on something to be taller?”

“No.”

He totally is—_must_ be—because Eliot can feel Quentin’s spectacular bulge pressing insistently against his own through just enough fabric to make this _ridiculously_ hot. Eliot doesn’t even care about the height thing, frotting like this always sucked the air and words right out of his chest. “Your dick feels so fucking good,” Eliot finds himself moaning probably a little too loudly, a hand tangling in Quentin’s hair as teeth find his overly-sensitive neck, making him moan again and again.

Quentin’s delighting in the noises that he’s drawing from Eliot, hips persistent and he’s unable to believe how hard Eliot was from just this. A hand gets between them to hastily undo Quentin’s pants but keep them on, just enough to draw a sigh of relief for the sake of his previously-very uncomfortably confined hardness. Then Eliot’s shirt is untucked, vest already unbuttoned, unsteady hands feeling up Eliot’s abs and sides. One sturdy hand holds Quentin by the hip and Eliot feels the attention to his neck cease in favor of his lips being roughly captured. It’s when they’re deep into making out that Eliot’s fingers brush against the lightswitch, flicking it on.

They both look more than halfway to debauched; swollen lips and messy hair, lust-glazed eyes and half undone clothes. And they’re both pretty sure they’ve never seen anything sexier in their short lives.

Eliot’s the first to speak, letting his hips rock gently against Quentin’s, “If we keep this up, I’m going to ruin my trousers.”

“Not your expensive silk underwear?” Quentin kind of can’t believe that Eliot made the word _trousers_ sound so sexy but…here they were.

An amused smirk crosses Eliot’s features, as if Quentin gave exactly the answer he was looking for. “Oh, Q,” he moans softly, using one hand to undo his belt and pants. They slide down just enough for Eliot’s dick to be _completely_ out, which makes Quentin blush for a number of reasons (a main one being how _big_ he forgot it was.)

“Holy shit.”

Eliot raises an eyebrow.

“I, um, don’t have any lube,” Quentin says softly.

“I know a spell for that,” Eliot smirks, leaning to kiss him again. This time it’s more gentle, a hand running carefully over his neck. “Can you brace yourself on that wall behind you?” Eliot doesn’t want to bother with negotiating the removal (and subsequent putting-back-on) of pants in the confined space.

Quentin blinks, eyes wide, “Umm…”

Eliot looks down and catches that yes, Quentin was in fact standing on something—and yes, they were high heeled sandals that must have been Julia’s or Alice’s given the fact that Quentin could actually get his feet inside them. “Alright, how about this,” Eliot smiles, ducking out from Quentin’s arms and shifting behind him, surprising him with hands on Quentin’s slight hips. He’s still a bit taller than Quentin despite the sandals, which worked in his favor as far as angles were concerned. Quentin makes a surprised but pleased sound, bracing himself on the wall previously occupied by Eliot and arching into the little touches.

With more gentleness than Quentin would have anticipated, Eliot gets his pants and boxer briefs down around his knees. “You have such a cute ass,” Quentin can practically hear the smirk.

There’s a brief moment of silence as Eliot does a relatively uncomplicated tut, the fingers on his left hand suddenly slick. He holds Quentin with his right hand, easing his first finger inside his entrance. “Oh, um, I should be…good to go.”

“Oh?”

“I have a—I mean, I bought it because I was curious and it, uh, ended up feeling really good so I use it pretty often. Including earlier this morning.”

Quentin’s blushing and it’s so unspeakably delicious, Eliot can only see the tips of his ears but he still has to pause to collect himself. “Well, well, sounds like fun. If you’re sure,” he says, mostly repeating the previous tut so his hardness is coated with the same slightly-chilly lubricant. “Are you ready?”

“_Yes_,” Quentin sighs happily.

Eliot leans to gently kiss Quentin on the back as he moves to slowly work himself inside. “Oh fuck, _Eliot_…”

Hearing Quentin moan his name like that is music to Eliot’s ears. “You feel so good, Quentin. Fucking amazing.”

“You’re so big, El, fuck,” Quentin moans, trying to catch his breath.

Eliot’s holding onto him tightly both to thrust himself in deeper and because he loves having Quentin close. “Do you need me to take it slow?”

“Just a little. Yeah.”

A hand makes its way down Quentin’s body, Eliot’s delicate but deceptively strong hand wrapping around Quentin’s cock and making him sigh out in complete bliss. The lube is just chilly enough for a nice contrast to his overheated skin. “I’m going to make you feel so good, Q,” Eliot moans softly into his ear, one hand working slowly on his hardness while the other remains still on his chest. Gently, he presses a kiss to Quentin’s shoulder—his skin is surprisingly soft against Eliot’s lips and it makes him kiss his way up until his mouth meets Quentin’s hair.

The tenderness coming from Eliot catches Quentin off-guard; when the other had said a _quick fuck_, he expected roughness and fastness and while he certainly was being fucked _good_, it was also done with a level of unexpected…desire, maybe? Compassion? Eliot clearly cares about Quentin’s pleasure, evident from his careful but steady hips and the way he effortlessly strokes the hardness in his hand. There’s reverence in the kisses that Eliot presses to Quentin’s neck, drawing noises from Q that he doesn’t expect but Eliot delights in.

Quentin feels so safe in Eliot’s arms—so loved and so good.

“Can you go a little faster?”

“Anything for you,” Eliot smiles, picking up the pace and moaning into Quentin’s neck as he does. He takes note of what Quentin seems to like, mentally reading over his body as he let his hips work. Quentin’s moaning too, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious to anyone right outside of the little space exactly what’s going on behind the door.

Eliot’s so good with his dick that Quentin starts seeing stars, and between that and the stroking and the marks that Eliot starts leaving on his shoulder it’s not long before he’s close to losing it. Eliot’s frankly surprised that either of them lasted this long.

“Eliot, _fuck_…” Quentin’s choking on his words, moaning out that he’s going to cum. Eliot’s getting very close himself and chooses to go just a hair faster to really milk the both of them. It works, with twin ragged-sounding moans of each others’ names, Eliot’s filling the younger man and Quentin’s painting the wall in front of him.

They’re panting hard as they come down. Quentin’s knees buckle but Eliot holds him up securely in his arms, letting Quentin rest against him. Both of them practically glow as they take turns catching their breath.

Eliot’s the first to break the hazy silence, laughing softly, “I meant to aim that at your chest to prevent…that.”

It takes Quentin a moment to even notice the sizable jizz-stain on the wall, “Oh, shit.”

“I must have been doing very well,” Eliot smiles, kissing Quentin on the temple.

Quentin just sighs and relaxes all the more in Eliot’s arms, making a soft noise when he feels Eliot slip out of him. He wants to ask what this means for the two of them, but he’s still drunk and coming down from his orgasm and not wanting to ruin this moment so he keeps the words to himself, nodding. “That was so good, I kind of—really needed that, thank you.”

“I’m glad I could make you feel good.” He pauses, running a few fingers through Quentin’s hair, “At the risk of getting sappy, you’re important to me and you’re wrong about people not wanting to _do_ _things_ with you.”

Eliot doesn’t give Quentin time to respond to that, carefully pulling his trousers back on and helping Quentin with his underwear and jeans. He’s about to leave when Quentin touches him gently on the elbow. Eliot looks at him with a raised eyebrow and Quentin nods to the incriminating stain. “Oh, right.”

With a careful flourish of Eliot’s hands, the substance was gone. He gives Quentin a little smile before he’s paused again, this time by Quentin leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Eliot says, taking Quentin by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go finish what we started, then we can figure out tonight’s sleeping arrangements.” He can’t help a wink, “You might even get your first sleepover blowjob.”

Eliot leads them out of the closet, heading for the living room where Margo and Julia are giggling about something madly. “_Took_ you long enough,” Margo smirks.

“We could hear—every word. Well. There weren’t a lot of words,” Julia’s almost cackling and judging by the glasses in front of them, they’d been doing shots.

“We wanted to tell you and not be rude and just bail on you,” Margo’s playfully digging at them; both Quentin and Eliot know she doesn’t really mean it, “but we’re gonna go run a bath, you want in?”

Eliot and Quentin exchange looks. Eliot shrugs and picks up the almost-full bottle of wine, “I think we’re gonna kill this instead. In my room. With the lights dimmed.”

“Drink every time we don’t moan real words because that’s what we were doing. Well, when our mouths weren’t busy,” Julia says, taking Margo by the hand and leading her to the bathroom with the biggest bathtub.


End file.
